Year 2556. 12 months after first contact.
Earth, UNF Beijing Headquarters.


The evenings here were almost always perfect. He wasn't entirely certain why. Perhaps it was the cuban cigars that did it, or perhaps it was because his office lay on the western end of the complex, granting him beautiful sunsets during cloud-free days. It was the combination of both he punctuated and puffed from his cigar. Dressed in the white and blue digital pattern working uniform, Captain Andrew Winters sat in his sunchair on the balcony outside his office. He wore a pair of black aviator sunglasses and had his feet kicked up against the balcony railing. With a cuban cigar in hand he gazed out over the near endless city of awe-inspiring skyscrapers and a myriad of circling train tracks navigating through it all from the results genius engineering. Tonight was one of those perfect evenings. The setting sun reflected off of the glassy skyscrapers and the air was moderate, yet despite all this Andrew could not find any peace for his mind this evening. Far west from the United Nations Fleet headquarters lay a massive civil shipyard, which purpose was to construct and launch exploration vessels for mankind's mission to conquer the stars. From his balcony Andrew had a brilliant view over it. For the past year the shipyard had been inactive in the wake of humanity's first encounter with sentient life beyond their own species. Andrew's rank did not grant him any insight into the details of the event, but shortly after the reported first contact exploration vessels were replaced with military ones, and exploration routes were replaced with patrol patterns. For ten months the exploration effort into the reaches of the Milky Way were put on hiatus as the United Nations gazed out into the galaxy with a rising pulse. Nothing else happened. No other reports of extraterrestrial contact came in. By the end of 2555 the UN breathed out in uncertain relief and finally dared to resume their exploration missions. Two months ago a civil exploration vessel named "The Avalon" had been moved to the shipyard Andrew was now staring at. It did not sit well with him, not yet. Twelve months were not enough time, he thought. They needed at least a few more to be a hundred percent certain that nothing lurked beyond the watchful eyes of their radars.

His thoughts were abrupted by someone knocking on his office door.
"Come in." Andrew half-hollered over his shoulder.
He heard how the door to his office opened and then shortly after closed again. Light footsteps approached him but he did not care to look. He had some idea who it was. The footsteps stopped next to him. Andrew puffed from his cigar again and pulled up the aviators to rest above his forehead as he glanced to the right with a slight squint, the setting sun staring in his eyes.
"I have the file you asked for, sir." a woman's voice of asian divergence spoke up.
Andrew blinked and waited until he could see her clearly before he held out his hand. The woman had almost black hair, tied up behind her head in a ponytail and was dressed in a similar uniform as he, the only difference being her national flag upon the left arm. Hers was China, his was the United States of America. She handed over the file and stood at ease, seeing as the captain was in a similar state.
"Thank you, Liú." Andrew replied. Liú nodded and then turned around to depart the office. Andrew waited until he heard the door close behind her before he turned his attention to the file and opened it. Within lay the details of The Avalon's mission, and its military escort. At first the civil management had objected to the escort, but finally succumbed after pressure from several UNF admirals that insisted the protection was absolutely necessary. Prior to 2555 the civil exploration ships had been able to scour the Milky Way without protection. Those days were over, at least for the time being. Andrew merely skimmed through the page detailing the mission that would take The Avalon to the edge of charted space. Instead he turned a page and with higher interest studied the ship that would accompany The Avalon. The UNF vessel "Bismarck" had been assigned as the security detail. A suitable choice, Andrew thought to himself. Bismarck was a corvette, constructed in Germany. It was agile and fast, with outstanding stealth and radar capabilities. Alfred Bauer was the commanding officer of Bismarck. He was german, just like his ship. Andrew knew Alfred well. He was older than Andrew by almost a decade and carried a brilliant charisma to him. A charisma that would be sorely needed at the edge of the known galaxy, Andrew thought with a thin smile.

He closed the file and rose up from the sunchair. He put out the cigar and then walked into his office and made his way over to the door, and exited the room. He stepped out into a long and unimpressive hallway and veered off to the right. After a hundred yards he stopped by a door leading into another office. He knocked but did not wait and immediately stepped inside. At a desk sat a uniformed man with a holopad in his hands which he skimmed through with a bored look on his face. He looked up as Andrew stepped inside.
"Busy, Alfred?"
"Not at all. Come in." Alfred replied and put away the holopad. "What's going on?"
Andrew walked over to the desk and raised the file he held in his hand. He then sat down in a chair opposite of Alfred and dropped the file on his desk. Andrew leaned back and clasped his hands over the midriff with an amused smile.
"Were you going to just jump off into space without saying goodbye to your best pal in Beijing?"
Alfred scratched his cheek and took on a thoughtful look. "I was planning on waving as I passed by..."
"Wow. I might've almost noticed that then." Andrew replied. The two officers laughed briefly, yet Andrew noticed something in Alfred's eye, a look of absence and perhaps concern. As if Alfred read his mind, he spoke up before Andrew could ask.
"The crew is a bit on edge, you know. As am I. It may have been a year ago but that doesn't mean we all believe we're suddenly alone in the universe again."
Andrew rolled a shoulder. "I hear you. I think it's on the mind of everybody. But you've got a kickass stealth corvette, what's to worry about?"
"The Avalon." Alfred said with a pensive frown. "She's a beauty but she's no ninja."
"Getting cold feet?"
"Absolutely not." Alfred replied determinedly. "My crew and I will watch over them like a fox."
"Hawk." Andrew interjected.
"What?"
"Nothing.
Alfred shrugged and then looked down at the holopad on his desk as the screen flashed up with an incoming message. Alfred took the holopad and read through the message. When he was done he tucked away the pad and stood up.
"Seems like they're too eager over there. The Avalon is already prepared and will depart later by twenty-three hundred."
"And they informed you just now? Nice. Bureaucrats at their finest."
Alfred sighed and grabbed a jacket, camouflaged in the same pattern and white-blue colours like the rest of his uniform. Finally he pulled on a cap over his head and made for the door leading out from his office.
"Have fun babysitting." Andrew said over his shoulder as Alfred closed the door behind him.

Year 2556.
Earth, UNF International Airfield, France.

Loud engines roared across the skies, as several ships flew around the busy airfield. Marines and crewmembers ran about their business, be it prepping ships or running errands. White and blue uniforms swarmed the airfield in neat formations and organised patterns. The airstrip was still kept repaired, even though it had grown quite obsolete in modern times. It was a symbol by now, of the old times, before interplanetary ships and vertical launches. Several large UNF ships were stationed in the base, which had been expanded several times over the years. It was the size of a small city by now, with hangars, offices, barracks and apartments. It wasn’t solely military personnel either, but plenty of civil workers worked there as well. It was late afternoon by now, and the sun had begun setting. Even so, the day was far from over for the most of them. That included Mireille Lemaitre, who was on her way to the Intrépide, a multi crew ship. 60 meters in length, and 13 meters in height, the French-produced assault and transport ship was sturdy and trusted. The Nostradamus Class-A had been used for both fighting and transporting, serving as a heavier ship than a standard one-man fighter. The crew aboard it, consisting of seven, was quite the international gathering, from all across the world. Flight Lieutenant Mireille served as the primary pilot, under Captain Lewis, a Canadian-born officer.

The crew had gathered the last things, settling in. They were set for Beijing this evening, having been assigned to the UNF Bismarck in the last minute. Mireille had been told little, and her natural born curiosity was getting the better of her. She dumped her belongings on the humble bed, allowing a sigh to escape her. The day had been so awfully long and busy, especially with the call for mobilising the crew on such short notice. She peered at herself through the mirror, frowning slightly at the sight she saw. The woman before her looked dreary and stressed, her neat braid being the only thing that made her look presentable, at least in her own opinion. Mireille flipped a card around between her fingers, giving it a brief look every now and then. The letters on the card glowed a passive blue. The official identification each UNF employee was given at the employment. Each bit of the information was due to change and would do so automatically, quite nifty, the thing. Her eyes glanced at the card.

Lemaitre, Mireille
Female, 27
Blood type, AB
Flight Lieutenant, UNF Intrépide, Nostradamus Class-A Military Ship
United Nations Force
French Department

“Mireille! Packed your things?” A familiar voice spoke up as the footsteps approached. The girl looked up, offering a tired smile towards Alexander Neumann, one of the gunners aboard the Intrépide. He was slightly older than her, somewhere around the mid-thirties, far as she recalled. Alexander was a German-born marine, having been assigned to the Intrépide for just as many years as Mireille by now. He always carried a formal but welcoming smile, and today was no different.
“Yes, yes.” Mireille started, her English having a clear French accent. “It’s been a long day, don’t you think? You’ve heard anything from the captain? What we’re doing in Beijing?” She asked, eager as ever.
Alexander nodded, rubbing his newly trimmed chin. “I’ve heard nothing. Lewis is yet to return from the meeting. I assume he’ll brief us as we fly.” Alexander rolled a shoulder, as the two headed towards the cockpit. The entire crew was gathered, exchanging greetings and whatnot. They had been off for a week, as they were stationed in France.
Lewis returned not long after, ordering an assembly within the crew quarters. He was well around his forties, and had been in the navy for more than twenty years. His face was stoic as ever, as he addressed the crew, fancy clipboard in hand. He did love that clipboard of his.

“Very well. I’m glad you all were able to prepare so quickly. As you know, we’re to fly to Beijing tonight. Upon arrival we’ll certainly be briefed even more. Nonetheless, we’ve been assigned as a support to the UNF Bismarck, a corvette to escort the civilian exploration vessel, The Avalon.” Lewis wet his lips, looking up from the clipboard briefly. The crew was listening, each of them as curious as Mireille was each day. The captain continued. “We’re to embark on a mission to the outer reaches of the Milky Way.” They were silent; though it was clear they all had questions of the nature of the mission. Lewis squinted his eyes at them, smiling slightly.
“We’ll know more in Beijing. For now, welcome to Operation Illumination.”

“UNF Intrépide, you’re cleared for launch.” The radio buzzed through the speakers in the cockpit. Merielle, Captain Lewis and the secondary Pilot William Miles sat ready, plotting coordinates and flight route. The Intrépide’s engines roared loudly, as the ship fired up. It pushed itself directly up into the air, lights flashing in a steady rhythm by the end of front and rear of the ship. Several spotlights lit the ground beneath the ship up, as it took off in the night.

“Launch successful, retracting landing gear.” Mireille’s voice echoed through the radio system. The ship roared again, as it flew upwards, ascending with incredible speed, leaving behind trails of smoke. The trip wouldn’t take more than two hours through international air, the Nostradamus classes being known for impressive speed in the atmosphere, as well as in space. The ground beneath them seemed to move quicker than one could fathom, the lights of cities passing many kilometres beneath them. It wasn’t long till they were in Asia, and soon China.
“UNF Headquarters, this is UNF Intrépide, requesting landing pad.” Muttered Captain Lewis into a microphone, releasing a green button. The button turned red for a few seconds, until it began blinking yellow. Lewis held it down again, listening to the voice.
“UNF Intrépide, this is Tower One, proceed to landing pad five.”
Lewis nodded to himself.
“Acknowledged, proceeding to LP five.”
The ship descended between the skyscrapers, just the street across the UNF Headquarters building. Mireille admired it with a smile, as they brought down the ship upon what looked mostly like a parking lot for ships. A swift bump announced the landing, as the headlights of the ship were turned off. Now, only the lights of the landing pads and buildings surrounding them lit them up. Mireille could almost make out the offices in the building, as they removed their belts.

Year 2555. First contact.
Star: Wolf 359
Planet: D-3353
7.9 Light Years from Earth.

"Things are far more serious than I suspect you've been told - P-people are dying up here...."
"And that isn't the end. Well how did this all happen?"
"We've been completely cut off from earth! -... Any chance of restoring contact?"
"Very little, sir. We've lost all direct communication."

Doctor Carlisle bobbed her head gently in tune with the light beats of early 21st century artist Deca. One of the many musicians from that long bygone age which appeared on her spinning record. They could get no radio waves this far out so most on the Samurai played their music on manual recorders. Re-creations of ancient technology which played music recorded live and kept in dimples and scratches, rather than the data cloud. Jane had come to prefer it over the perfect imitations that the music player in the lobby made, or perhaps it was the solitude she enjoyed more. The three year trip across the Milky Way and its LPP's (Life Probability planets) was admittedly spent in stasis and sleep the vast majority of the time but whenever the crew on the Samurai reached one of the planets, like they had now, they woke and excitedly set to their projects and tasks. The Captain and his lieutenants were all scientists and astronauts. Trained, specified and quite literally bred for the task of space travel they commanded engineers, technicians and pilots who scuttled across the narrow spaces of their vessel to ensure the cold choke of Space was not at risk tearing everyone apart or that there was no course of collision in either dense packs of dust or some moon, planet or asteroid torn apart by the pull of gravity. There were geologists, mathematicians, astronomers and even military journalists. These were all busy as well, mingling and sharing the findings of their probes which combed the Wolf Solar system while they had been asleep. Recording their findings and submitting them back to the Samurai's research center.

Cornering the vast and modern system of science and math was a lonely cranny cramped with books, papers, sunflowers of every size, the casual beats of musicians decades dead and finally the interim Doctor of Anthropology; Jane Carlisle of Scotland. Carlisle sat hunched over a flippable writing pad, bobbing her head by natural instinct to the music while writing her limited report on the blue shining screen on her desk. There was a keyboard to use built inside the clean sterile white desk but she preferred the graphic pencil when writing and during her fifty years of working as both a researcher and professor of anthropology all of her studies and papers had been made by human hands directly. A fact she proudly flaunted in a studious culture which became more and more reliant on machines to do their work for them by the year. - Especially archaeologists. Carlisle had avoided most contact with her fellow researchers since the post-waking briefing and now sat in her little corner of the ship, humming along to the tunes which sounded in her cramp office.



As the song finished and the record scratched faintly in changing song Jane kicked her feet back from the desk, watching her pad from a distance. The report was theoretical only and contained nothing of great interest. The biologists and herbalists had their findings from the last two planets, rich with flora and simple organisms but Carlisle as the only anthropologists on board had absolutely nothing to show so far. Not that it bothered her much. She knew that the chance of finding sentient life, or life at all on any planet in our galaxy was far too slim. Hardly large enough a chance to warrant her being here at all but here she was. Almost eight light years away from planet Earth and all of its people, culture and wonder, all in the vain hope that someday, somehow their vessel would stumble upon life worthy of researching in any way. Or at least note down. Jane let her chair swivel. Spinning around the center of her small office slowly. She saw her many pots of sunflowers, her plain yet comfortable bed tucked inside the wall, her stacks of human literature and the shelf where she had both her record player and a small plastic figure of her favourite 21st century icon; Godzilla. King of Monsters. Jane planted her slipper-wearing feet down on the ground and watched the figure while blankly listening to Bowie jerk his guitar off with that nonchalant and gritty suaveness his brand of music created. The lizard looked straight ahead, dead plastic eyes locked on some distant past where it was from. A past which Carlisle had researched and studied beyond most anthropologists her age. It was in thinking about these cultural steps of history that Carlisle so often found herself since there was little actual purpose to her being on the ship in the first place. *BEEPRI-BOOP* chirped a soft alarm from her right - Without pausing her playing music the doctor turned on her swiveling chair and faced the small outlet on the wall which made the chirping sound. Jane patted the round peg with her hand and received the call.
"Doctor Carlisle?" Said the male voice from within the outlet. Jane did recognize the voice of Captain Nadir though even if she did not the outlet had displayed caller ID and rank already. Jane blinked in minor confusion at the call and for a moment wondered if the captain had gotten the wrong Doctor Carlisle. Bowie extravagantly flaunted in the backdrop of her room and her mind.
"Doctor?" Nadir repeated in higher tone of questioning. Jane immediately corrected her uniform, or she would have had she worn one. Instead she corrected the white wool sweater she wore and set her face closer to the outlet.
"Aye, Cap'n?" She said. They'd told her to say 'yes' but she would not betray her cultural heritage just yet and not so easily.
"We need you up here. You've five minutes." Nadir stated in command and the moment Jane could mutter her incoherent reply of:
"Eh-.. Oh-.. Alright then..." he spoke once more.
"Good." And then the captain shut the link off and left Doctor Carlisle to herself again.
Jane scooped up the closest lab coat of white and blue, designated to all scientists of the vessel and threw it over her casual wear, she tied up her gray frizzy hair in a pathetically prompt bun and exited her office. Which soon blared with the sounds of Michael Jackson.

Year 2556.
Earth, UNF Beijing Headquarters.

Andrew sat in the cafeteria located on the second floor in the massive hangar. The cafeteria was mainly used by the hangar's personnel but occasionally officers from other parts of the complex came here to watch over vessels within the hangar bay as they were being prepared. With a cup of steaming hot chocolate in his hands Andrew glanced out from the windows on his left side, watching as large mech units moved around in the hangar bay, hauling ammunition, provisions and fuel into the cargo hold of the Stülcken-class corvette "Bismarck" currently occupying the hangar space. Before boarding, Alfred had told Andrew he was expecting additional personnel coming in from France, and that in turn had further delayed the Bismarck from taking off. They were already behind The Avalon's preliminary preperations and would instead have to rendezvous with the exploration ship at Lunar Orbital near the moon. Andrew had wished them the best of luck.

Andrew sipped carefully from his mug and looked away from the hangar bay. The cafeteria was empty except for a small group of mech-suit pilots sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria. His attention was diverted when the military-grade watch around his right wrist displayed an incoming call. Andrew pressed on a small button to bring up the call on screen and then rose up to his feet after having read it. He had new orders and were to report in to his flotilla. He quickly emptied his cup of hot chocolate and promptly left the hangar.

Fifteen minutes later Andrew entered the building where the command staff of the Third Flotilla were sitting. He checked in and announced his presence via a terminal by the entrance and then made his way over to a nearby elevator that would take him up to the top floor. He turned to the left as he stepped out from the elevator and navigated his way through various corridors until he came upon a briefing room. He was the only one who had been summoned. Other than Andrew there was one other person in the room, an elderly woman bearing the navy's uniform. Andrew saluted her as he entered. "Ma'am."

The woman saluted as well. Commodore Marlene Ford had been leading the UNF's Third Flotilla for twelve years She had greying hair and the beginnings of wrinkles but was still tremendously tough and possessed tactical brilliance and charisma that made her a stellar superior to serve under. She gave a thin smile as she lowered her hand back to her side. "Good that you are here. Is everything alright with you, captain?"
Andrew nodded. He too had lowered his hand but stood to attention still. "Yes, ma'am. I'm jelous of seeing the Bismarck depart."
Marlene nodded and beckoned him over while she picked up a controller from a nearby desk. "You won't be for long. Come, look at this."
Andrew made his way over to a chair and sat down while Marlene pointed the controller at a screen on the opposite end of the room. She pressed on a button and the screen switched on. The screen displayed the Sol system as a whole, with a myriad of lines and dots throughout it. The screen moved and zoomed in to an icy dwarf planet.
"This came in an hour ago from Eris." Marlene pressed another button and a recording window appeared on the screen. On it they saw a woman wearing a headset, half her face smeared in blood. Marlene pressed the play button and the recording started.

"This is Chief Technical Officer Antonia Benítez of the F3-12 Communication and Relay Post. Our facility is under assault by an unidentified force. Our security is failing and we are losing control of our systems. We require urgent assistance from any available UN forces that receive this."

The recording ended as promptly as it started and Marlene put down the controller on the table and turned to face Andrew. She scowled in thoughtful concern and then gestured to the screen. "You heard. F3-12 is critical to our logistics within Sol. If we lose the station then large portions of the system will be blind. You're all I've got for this, Andrew. My hands are tied with Bismarck and so I must task you and your crew with this."
Andrew nodded. The rest of the Third Flotilla were on exercise on the other side of the sun, leaving Andrew and his crew as the only available asset to deal with the situation. It's not how he envisioned his return into space but he was always prepared that something like this might happen. "We'll deal with it, ma'am."
Marlene nodded in acknowledgement. "We know very little about the attackers so I will leave the ROE to you once you are there and can fully assess the situation. Do what you must, but keep F3-12 intact. You will set out immediately. Dismissed!"

Andrew sprung up to his feet and saluted, then he turned and rushed out from the briefing room and back through the corridors he came from. He ran to the elevator he first arrived in and descended the building. While he waited for the elevator to reach the bottom floor he sent out the urgent deployment order to his crew from his military-grade watch. As soon the elevator's two steel doors opened he almost threw himself out and sprinted out from the building. He turned around a corner and set off to the eastern end of the complex where he could acquire a vechicle that would take him to the military shipyards. And the clock was ticking.